


Rumours

by angstbot



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Heterosexual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:53:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstbot/pseuds/angstbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Begins after the diner scene in the released 7 minute spoilers. 10 chapters organized around the songs of Fleetwood Mac's Rumours--the album where they were all sleeping with each other and breaking up. Will be angsty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Going Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> Eventual SwanQueen, but begins with the post-3B CaptainSwan reality and OutlawQueen recent reality. There will also be some retaliatory HookedQueen, though it will probably not be explicit.

_She broke down and let me in_  
 _Made me see where I've been_  
  
 _Been down one time_  
 _Been down two times_  
 _I'm never going back again_  
  
 _You don't know what it means to win_  
 _Come down and see me again_

 

“Regina!” Emma pounded on the door. “Dammit, Regina! Please, just talk to me!” She’d been out here for the better part of an hour, knocking, then pleading, then shouting, then pleading, and now slamming her fist against the wood as her patience ran out again. She knew she should have just followed the queen when she let the diner, but she’d let Hook talk her into giving her space. She was regretting that now.

And then, just as she was drawing breath and her arm back to go again, there was a tiny click, the lock undone.

The study was dark, lit only by the embers of a dying fire, and she almost missed seeing the older woman, sitting on the floor beside the door, knees drawn up protectively against her chest, spotting her just before she broke the silence, growling, “I let you in. Talk.”

“Regina, I-” And once again, as so often when she began sentences that way, she didn’t know how to finish it. It was so hard to see this proud, strong woman so completely devastated, even if Emma privately thought her attachment to Robin after only a few days was rather excessive.

Regina looked so fragile, as if her body was held together only by the tension of her simmering rage. Her face was tear-streaked, and the savior had the strangest compulsion to gather her up and kiss them away and murmur that everything would be fine, except _that_ wasn’t remotely appropriate for who they were to each other. “Regina, I-” she started again, still not knowing what the hell she was going to say.

But the older woman saved her from it. “No, actually, you’re going to listen. Here you are again, Swan, coming in here with what is evidently genetic self-righteousness,” Regina sneered. “You’re so determined to _save_ everybody that you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Interfering is a way of life with you.”

The blonde started pacing. This again? “I’ve already told you that I’m not going to apologize for saving someone’s life,” she said as calmly as she could. Why couldn’t Regina see that?

“Altering the timeline is dangerous!” the queen hissed back. “There is a _reason_ time travel is basically impossible! Who knows what the hell else you have thrown out of alignment, the repercussions that will ripple outward? And, I recall that I told you to _listen_. Since you’ve so rudely insisted on _invading_ my house, kindly shut the hell up.”

Regina glared at her for a moment, daring her to speak, then went on, “You go blundering around trying to be a hero, possibly doing incredible harm, I might add, and I am collateral damage. I bear the consequences.” She laughed, humorlessly. “I was finally getting something right. I was finally getting to win.”

That brought she savior up short and all she could say was “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry really isn’t good enough,” Regina snapped. “How many times do I have to lose everything? Why do I even bother trying to be a good person when it gets me exactly nowhere?”

“Don’t go back,” Emma replied immediately, reflexively. “You’ve come so far.” She couldn’t let this woman destroy herself. For Henry’s sake, of course.

“Shut up! Don’t you _fucking_ patronize me, Swan,” the queen hissed, the name hitting Emma harder than the curse, harder than the tone. “I’m never going back to that again, but not because _you_ told me to.” She laughed bitterly. “You. Trying to ride in here on your white horse and save me from myself. Or is it save everyone from me? Your father was awfully worried.” She scoffed.

“I’m only worried about you,” the savior insisted, and realized suddenly that it was true. Somehow it wasn’t about Henry’s other parent anymore. It was about this person. Regina. And her relationship with Regina, whatever it was.

“You know,” the older woman went on as if she hadn’t spoken, getting rolling now. “I said in Neverland that you had _everything_ , and look, you still do. Parents who love you.” A humorless laugh. “Your father was the cost of the dark curse this time instead of mine, but he’s still walking around, thanks to me. Your mother killed mine, do you recall?”

“Regina, Cora was-”

“No,” Regina said, and there was something not quite in control there, now. “No more talking for you. And you were going to _take_ Henry.”

There was absolutely no excuse for that after their son had his memories back, and Emma knew it. She just looked deep into the queen’s eyes, red-rimmed from crying as they still were, trying to convey all her regret and care with her expression. Their eyes held for a long, long moment, and she thought they might be getting somewhere, that Regina might be opening up to comfort.

Then the moment was gone again. “You, with your pretty pirate stalker boyfriend. So easy for you, the Savior, the embodiment of true love, the classic blonde beauty. You had to beat them off with a stick. This was my one thing. This was the _one_ person who wanted the Evil Queen.”

“You're so much more than an Evil Queen. You're brilliant and strong and loving and sassy and gorgeous, and sexy-”

“Excuse me,” the older woman scoffed bitterly. “The last thing I need right now is my frenemy who just got her man and took away mine telling me how sexy I am.”

Emma nodded acknowledgement, feeling a little embarrassed and like she’d gotten carried away. She shook it off and insisted, “Please, Regina. I know it has to be awful right now.” At the queen’s skeptical look, she said, “I know, I have no idea how you feel. Again.”

Emma knelt beside the older woman, holding out her hands. It felt right to get closer now. “And I know I’m the last person you want to see. Well, second to last. But let me help,” she pleaded. “Anything. Please. Don’t go down the road of vengeance again.”

“I’ve been down and it- is- _dark_ there. I spent many years in that pit. I don’t think I would ever come out again if I went back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little echoes of Xena episode Sacrifice II and But I’m a Cheerleader, did you spot them?


	2. Don't Stop

_If you wake up and don't want to smile,_  
 _If it takes just a little while,_  
 _Open your eyes and look at the day,_  
 _You'll see things in a different way._  
  
 _Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,_  
 _Don't stop, it'll soon be here,_  
 _It'll be, better than before,_  
 _Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone._  
  
 _Why not think about times to come,_  
 _And not about the things that you've done,_  
 _If your life was bad to you,_  
 _Just think what tomorrow will do._  
  
 _Don't stop, thinking about tomorrow,_  
 _Don't stop, it'll soon be here,_  
 _It'll be, better than before,_  
 _Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone._  
  
 _All I want is to see you smile,_  
 _If it takes just a little while,_  
 _I know you don't believe that it's true,_  
 _I never meant any harm to you._

Emma saw an opportunity in that strict refusal of going down into darkness again. “I know it doesn’t feel like you can happy right now. You lost someone important to you.” At Regina’s glare, she corrected, “I _made_ you lose someone important to you. But don’t focus on that so much that you can’t see the big picture. Open your eyes and look around at what else you have,” she said urgently, dropping her hands, wondering what she’d been thinking to reach out in the first place.

“And what is that?” the queen sneered.

Emma knew this protective shield of snark so well now that she didn’t hesitate to pull out the big guns. “Henry loves you.” The older woman’s face softened, almost imperceptibly. The savior wondered if someone who knew her less well would even notice. But that couldn’t be all. She had to keep talking. “Regina, I-” she began, and then froze. What the hell was she going to say about herself? “I’m your friend,” she finished, speaking too quickly. “We’re family.”

“Family,” Regina enunciated all three syllables in that crisp way she had, skeptical.

“Try to see things in a different way. That time we had dinner at Granny’s? You, and me, and our kid, and my parents, didn’t that feel like family? All of us?” she pleaded, reaching out again comfortingly without a conscious decision. Emma’s hand had gotten within inches of the older woman’s knee before she realized that that it was going to be skin-to-skin contact, and _that_ was wildly inappropriate. She snatched both hands back to her sides, tightly clenched.

“Perhaps,” the older woman allowed guardedly, oblivious to or ignoring Emma’s tactile quandary. And then, in one of her quicksilver emotional shifts, “And you were planning to take Henry away even then. Why the hell should I listen to you?”

“I was wrong about that,” the savior said, her response heartfelt, contrite, immediate. “I was so, _so_ wrong.” Their eyes caught and held. The moment stretched out and out and suddenly the regret and apology Emma was trying to exude was threatening to become something else.

Just as the moment was about to get too big, too important, the blonde ran on, “But I’m right about this. You’re so focused on what’s gone, and lost, and- hell, I have always done that too. I get it. But it’s not good for either of us. Just, don’t focus on the past, Regina. Yesterday’s gone. Look forward. Think about tomorrow. The next day.” She was probably laying it on a little thick now, but somehow she desperately needed this woman to have hope again. “Soon this’ll all be far in your rearview mirror. Before you know it. Think about good times that are still to come.”

“Your platitudes are now straining credulity, Miss Swan,” and it stung, but far less than “Swan” had. “What good times can there possibly be in my future? I’m a villain, and it seems that stain is indelible. I have done terrible things. I killed-” a little humorless laugh, “so many people. Tried to hurt your family.” Her lips twitched. “Tried to hurt you.”

“No, Regina. Not about the bad things that you've done. What you said outside Granny’s was right.  You’re not that person anymore. _You_ are the person who sacrificed herself to stop the trigger from destroying us all. Who gave up her happy ending but made sure I got mine. Who dug deep and found light magic to save us all from Zelena like two days ago. That woman deserves a happy ending.” A beat.“ _You_ deserve a happy ending.” Regina’s eyes glowed almost golden the way the light was catching them, and Emma felt like she might just fall in. She shook it off. “Henry brought me here to bring back the happy endings. And I won’t rest until I do that for everyone. Including you.”

“That doesn’t feel possible.”

The older woman was so brittle in this moment, so close to breaking, and Emma had no fucking clue how to hold her together. All she could do was say, “I know. You’re hurting because of everything that’s happened to you, well, always. Your life has been incredibly unfair. So bad to you. But just- think what the future might bring. What can tomorrow do?”

“What the hell kind of question is that? And why are you trying so hard? I’m not going to exact revenge on you, Miss Swan. If nothing else, you are my son’s other mother.”

That hurt. Why wasn’t she something else? Fuck, why did she _want_ to be something else? “I just- I want to see you smile again.”

Regina instantly schooled her face into the political expression the blonde knew so well from her early days in Storybrooke, and the savior chuckled despite the incredible seriousness of the situation. “No, not the fake ‘drop dead’ smile. The real one.” And this time she did reach out and take Regina’s hands, hanging limply from her arms wrapped around her legs. “I don’t get it out of you often, but I will see it again if it is the last thing I do.”

And that very nearly worked. There was a little quirk of the queen’s lips, a little flash of humor in her eyes. Emma went on, “I know you don't believe that it's true, but I never meant any harm to you. Not with this. Not with anything.” Why was she being so earnest?

“Miss Swan,” the queen began, then corrected, “Emma, I appreciate your dedication to your role as savior. I do. But I need time to think. Please just give me space for that.” She extracted her hands carefully, not unkindly, but it still ached in a way the savior could not explain.

“What am I supposed to tell Henry?” Emma honestly couldn’t say whether it was an honest question or a low blow, but Regina did wince ever so slightly.

“Tell him that I love him, but I can’t be a very good mom to him right now,” the older woman said almost inaudibly.

“That isn’t fair to him, Regina,” and now the savior knew she was pushing.

“No, it isn’t,” the queen freely acknowledged. “But I need you to do this for me.”


	3. Second Hand News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided that the whole story takes place internal to Regina’s darkest moments, from the beginning of 4x01 until the night before Henry shows up at her door in 4x02. In true OUAT style, I’ll make that time expand to be as large as it needs to be. I’m also remixing the canon events. The door scene isn’t in the office because I wrote it from fuzzy leaked images and located it in her house, and it happens before the forest snow monster scene in this fic partially because I wrote it before the episode aired, but partially because it works better for the story. And the snow monster scene doesn’t happen quite as it does in 4x01, etc.

_I know there's nothing to say_  
 _Someone has taken my place_  
 _When times go bad_  
 _When times go rough_  
 _Won't you lay me down in the tall grass_  
 _And let me do my stuff_  
  
 _I know I got nothin' on you_  
 _I know there's nothing to do_  
 _When times go bad_  
 _And you can't get enough_  
 _Won't you lay me down in the tall grass_  
 _And let me do my stuff_  
  
 _One thing I think you should know_  
 _I ain't gonna miss you when you go_  
 _Been down so long_  
 _I've been tossed around enough_  
 _Couldn't you just_  
 _Let me go down and do my stuff_  
  
 _I know you're hopin' to find_  
 _Someone who's gonna give you peace of mind_  
 _When times go bad_  
 _when times go rough_  
 _Won't you lay me down in the tall grass_  
 _And let me do my stuff_  
  
 _I'm just second hand news_  
 _I'm just second hand news_

The bedroom was dim with the sun sinking slowly toward the horizon on the far side of the house. It was also cold, but Regina refused to allow herself the comfort of warmer clothes, of a blanket, of curling up to conserve her own heat. It felt right that her body be as chilly as her soul. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting on the chaise, staring out the window at nothing, when the light and the buzz from her phone caught her attention. Emma. She quirked a disapproving eyebrow at the offending electronic device beside her, then turned her head to resume drowning in her grief.

But then it went off again. The queen pursed her lips in irritation.

And a third time, and she sighed. And, inevitably, the blonde proceeded to leave a voicemail. At this point, it was clear that it must be important, for surely the savior’s deep need to put her nose in where it didn’t belong in an attempt to “fix” things would abate after two calls.

She huffed a small humorless laugh when, predictably, the recording ran, “Regina I- I know you told me you need space, and I want to respect that, and I wouldn’t be calling if it wasn’t an emergency. Um, there’s a snow monster?” The older woman nearly smiled, because she could almost picture Emma’s baffled expression as she said it. “I mean, I think? It seems like, anyway. And it’s, you know, on a rampage? And I tried, I really did,” she insisted, her tone shifting to defensive. “But I can’t stop it, and,” embarrassed now, “you can totally tell me I told you so because you were right and I should have practiced more and taken my magic training more seriously.” Regina scoffed, because she was damned if that wasn’t the admission she’d been waiting for, and of course it came now, like this. Then the savior’s voice took on a pleading note. “But please, please just come and help.”

The queen sighed and rolled her eyes at her phone in that she could not do so at the blonde. Wasn’t that just typical? Her magic was a contaminant and a problem and an addiction until it was useful. They didn’t want it around, didn’t want _her_ around, until they needed something. And then, “Let’s call Regina to save our asses again even though we could not be bothered to thank her for the last time.” She felt her lip curl in scorn.

But Regina equally knew that she would go, that she would always go. It was what she did these days, and moreover she knew perfectly well that the blonde would get herself killed with heroics trying take on tasks beyond her abilities. That, strangely, bothered her.

And so the queen rose, straightened her hair and outfit, put on her heels. If she was going to do this, she wasn’t going to let anyone see how she was suffering. Then she gathered her magic, felt around for Emma’s essence, and transported herself to where the savior was.

The first thing Regina heard when she appeared, safely behind a tree from the danger, was “Oi! Hey! Around this side!” Then came the twang of bowstrings, and she peered around the rough trunk to see. There was her magically prophesied soulmate, standing side-by-side with his warrior bride, the mother of his child. She looked so much nobler here, now, than she had in the mirror, so _right_ beside Robin, so in tune with him as they dodged together and then fired again, together. She couldn’t compete with that. She’d been replaced.

The queen was startled to realize that she didn’t really even miss the outlaw so much as the _idea_ of him. Seeing the tattoo, _knowing_ that pixie dust had decreed that they were destined for each other—ultimately, she had allowed herself to become attracted to the promise of him.

The material reality was another matter, too much unwashed muskiness and too little personality, not at all the stuff of tales about magical destiny. But Regina had leapt at the magical assurance anyway. She was just so damned tired of always having the rug pulled out from under her, having her hopes and dreams and plans ripped from her grasp just when happiness seemed to be in reach. This man was the thing that was supposed to be hers. Safe.

“On your left, Swan!” came a cry from the other side. There was the blonde thief she’d _actually_ come here to save, and _her_ leathery, smelly tag-along. She watched them darting between trees, feeling a twinge at how easily they coordinated strategy with quick glances.

Hook was Emma doing the _easy_ thing, she knew. The savior could shut her brain off and not even try because the pirate would always be there regardless of what she said or did. Compared to the weight of being the savior, it was attractive. The savior shouldn’t let her guard down with him, of course, should have it up more than anyone with the bastard because he was a liar, but he kept that well hidden. Or maybe, somewhere deep down, Emma knew and just didn’t want to accept that the easy thing had complications.

As the two of them ducked and wove, the queen remembered when she’d worked with the savior that seamlessly to solve a crisis, understanding each other completely without any words at all. Yet another way she’d replaced. This too hurt, and she couldn’t even begin to comprehend why.

Just then the monster managed to knock the lot of them flat with a single blow, because for some reason they’d been stupid enough to stand all together. She watched with odd detachment as it moved to destroy Marian. That would be a solution. But no- she wouldn’t let it happen, strode purposefully out, made eye contact with the peasant so that she’d know exactly who was saving her.

And then she made eye contact with Emma so _she_ ’d know- something.

Turning her attention back to the marauding overgrown snowcone, she vanished and reappeared behind it, then reduced it to powder with barely a thought. Really, it was truly amateur hour out here that so many of them were struggling with such a pathetic magical creature.

She watched Emma struggle to her feet and begin moving quickly toward her. “Thanks, Regina I-”

“The next time there is a crisis in this town, perhaps I should not find out about it late and second hand,” she growled, and took herself home in a cloud of purple smoke.


	4. Dreams

_But listen carefully to the sound_  
 _Of your loneliness_  
 _Like a heartbeat drives you mad_  
 _In the stillness of remembering what you had_  
 _And what you lost_  
 _And what you had_  
 _And what you lost_  
  
 _Thunder only happens when it's raining_  
 _Players only love you when they're playing_  
 _Say, women they will come and they will go_  
 _When the rain washes you clean, you'll know_  
  
 _Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions_  
 _I keep my visions to myself_  
 _It's only me_  
 _Who wants to wrap around your dreams and_  
 _Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?_

The instant Regina reappeared in her bedroom the stillness fell upon her once more, intolerably heavy and somehow, impossibly, worse than before she’d gone to save that pack of idiots. The brief interludes of interaction that Emma had imposed on her—twice now—with her infuriating Charming self-righteousness, it turned out, weren’t respites from her aching isolation at all. Indeed, rather than salving it, they made it all the more sharp by contrast. Here, now, again, the silence was implacable, and the way it was reinforced by thick walls, thick carpet, sturdy furnishings made the queen feel surrounded by enemies. That, at least, was utterly familiar.

Regina shook herself. That was foolish. She was Regina Mills, Madam Mayor, the Evil Queen herself. She feared nothing, least of all the company of her own thoughts. Stepping out of her heels, she sat primly on the chaise again, back straight, unbowed, just as she had gone to her execution all those years go. Let it come.

Come it did, slowly settling on her, a suffocating blanket of silence. Slowly, starting at the edges of her consciousness, rose the low buzzing of her own loneliness until it seemed deafening. And so, despite her desire for something, anything else, she found herself listening carefully to the sound.

What she had, what she lost. She’d had it all, for one brief moment. She, Regina Mills, Madam Mayor, the Evil Queen herself, starved for affection from birth, had been in possession of trust, care, people on her side. She’d had a lover, a family, a- an Emma. She’d had everything she’d ever wanted. She’d lost everything. What she had, what she lost. The two thoughts came in a rhythm, close together, steady. A heartbeat of ache.

She took a deep breath, slowly if not quite easily with the profound ache in her chest. Exhale. Eyes closed. Open. She could survive this. She had survived everything. The queen had lost everything, but she’d worked with less. For a brief moment her lip curled in a defiant sneer.

Then the stillness pressed down on her again so hard she could barely breathe. It was almost audible, alive, feral, ready to pounce. What she had, what she lost.

Fuck Emma. How could anyone be so cruel as to perpetrate the great and longstanding fraud of pretending to care about her? Yet there Regina had been, too eager to be loved to know when she was being played. It was just as it had been with Snow, in fact, a tale of misplaced trust in a selfish person leading to Regina’s heart being broken. But then, the savior caring about the Evil Queen was simply absurd on the face of it. How could she have been taken in?

The blonde’s vow to help Regina find her happy ending was surely nothing more than another manipulation designed to make the queen lower her guard, as she had so recently in constructing the plan to trick Zelena. The distrust Emma had displayed to the town to misdirect attention hadn’t been the façade. The trust she’d displayed before and after had been the lie, because all the while the blonde had been planning to abscond with Henry.

Emma had probably known exactly who Marian was and deliberately altered the timeline to harm Regina, and that loss of trust was keenly painful. She shook herself. Marian. Robin’s wife Marian. Robin. Why was she so focused on Emma? Her loss was of her soulmate. Soulmate. Soulmate.

What she had, what she lost. Thump-thump. What she had, what she lost. The steady beat of memory, the sensation of winning for once, was followed immediately by being plunged into loss. Again and again and again. It was driving her mad.  

The truly sad part was that Regina had started to allow herself visions of futures. She’d thought again, for the first time in a long time, about the simple things she’d wanted as a girl. The dreams looked somewhat different in this realm, but what she longed for was still very basic: A home. A family. Shared custody of Henry. Holidays with the whole extended family. Emma in a Santa hat. Damn it all, there she was again.

God, this was ridiculous. What she had lost was Robin, her soulmate. Her man. Man. Manly. She missed the way he was bigger than her. She that he was strong—if his hands were a little too clumsy on her face, on her body. She lamented the loss of the roughness of his face as they kissed, the roughness of his calluses, the roughness of her tongue pushing hard into her mouth. Yes, those were the visions to make herself properly miserable. That was what was truly pathetic of her to want, not the other. That was what she should be ashamed of allowing herself to dream of and what she was relieved to have kept to herself. Those were the dreams she was now burdened with and eager to unload at a bargain price.

What she had, what she lost. Thump-thump.

The crack of thunder outside, followed by a loud rush of rain, came as a relief. It had only been the calm before the storm. Regina had merely imagined a sentient, hovering silence waiting to devour her as she sank into madness. It was merely a natural phenomenon. She took a shaky breath. What did it matter that Emma had betrayed her? Everyone betrayed her. False allies came. False allies went. The only foolishness was in mistaking them for true. Her misery was draining away from her now in rivulets, as if being washed away by the torrential downpour she could hear so clearly.

Fuck Emma. For one brief, shining moment Regina’d had everything she’d ever wanted. She’d lost everything. Thump-thump. What she had, what she lost. Her blood was thudding in her veins so loudly now that she could barely hear herself think. Her life was nothing but loss stretching back in time and forward to the horizon. Had lost. Was losing. Would lose. But of course Emma, precious savior Emma, product of true love, had everything. Hell, even when she lost one of the men fawning over her she had a spare.

The world stopped. A spare. The pirate.

She knew. A wild elation. She knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first 2 chapters were Emma, now we have 4 in a row of Regina. It’ll balance in the end.
> 
> Little echo of Ani DiFranco in there.


	5. The Chain

_And if_  
 _You don't love me now_  
 _You will never love me again_  
 _I can still hear you saying_  
 _You would never break the chain_

_Listen to the wind blow_  
 _Down comes the night_

_Run in the shadows_  
 _Damn your love_  
 _Damn your lies_

_Break the silence_  
 _Damn the dark_  
 _Damn the light_

Regina rose gracefully to her feet, rolled out her neck, and then gestured herself out of her clothes. She took a moment to stretch luxuriously, catlike, the cool air of the room invigorating now on her bare skin. Her next magical flick of the wrist had her in a little black dress. She didn’t trouble herself with lingerie no one would bother to appreciate, but she did do her makeup, all smoky eyes and red-red-red lips. Looking herself over in the mirror, she felt thorough satisfaction at being utterly, perfectly dressed to seduce. She still had it. She didn’t dwell on the emptiness in her own eyes and carefully pushed down the moral implications of what she was about to do.

Because damn Emma. Damn that love she pretended, when really she could never love- The queen shook herself. What? No. The savior pretended to _care._ And damn her lies. If Emma didn’t care now, after all this time and everything they’d been through, she never would. And clearly the blonde’s thoughtlessness, her nonchalant hurting of Regina as if she was nothing, showed that she didn’t care, and wouldn’t. She could still hear the savior demanding that Victor let her go . . . insisting “She’s not dying”  . . . saying she believed she hadn’t cast the second curse . . . saving her from the fire . . . saving her from the wraith. Those moments of love- _care_ \- had gotten her through many a- she clenched her fists and her jaw and her eyes shut. No, she was done wallowing. Now was the time for revenge.

With the addition of her most devastating fuck-me heels, the ensemble was complete. Regina’s next act of magical will brought her downtown. Night had fallen, and though the storm had ended the streets were still wet with rain, glistening in the streetlights as a remnant of wind blew through her hair.

As she began to walk toward Granny’s, the queen became surer with each step, settling back into being this person. It had been a long while, but she could remember this game, the focus and heartlessness of vengeance. If the silence had felt like her enemy earlier, now the shadows were reaching out to embrace her, one of their own returned after a long while away.

It had also been quite some time since Regina had needed seduction, in that Robin had really thrown himself at her, but that was coming back to her now, too. Her walk became ever more fluid as she continued, her hips finding that roll that men—and not a few women—found irresistible. If before her agony had been a heartbeat driving her mad, this was a bassline building, sweeping her up, and she felt a smirk pulling up at the corner of her lips.

As luck would have it, her quarry came into view at that moment. Their paths converged as they both approached the side door of the inn, and when she got closer to the pirate she could hear him muttering imprecations against Emma under his breath. The queen smiled. This would be even easier than she had anticipated.

“Hello, Hook,” she greeted, her voice breaking the silence of the rain-washed street, low, velvety, pure sex.

“Your Majesty,” he replied, startled to see her, and wary.

“You look like you could use some company,” she said easily, her opening volley supported by her eyes flickering over his form as if she found him delectable.

Predictably, he slid easily into his slimiest demeanor, easily flattered. “I could indeed, love,” he began, then shook himself.

Regina saw the single sliver of loyalty in his body begin to resist and hastened to continue before it could take root. “I can’t imagine why Miss Swan has left you all alone,” she said with false solicitude, tilting her head up at him all pursed lips and wide eyes.

“Nor I,” he growled, almost to himself. Now she was getting somewhere. This was loathsome, this manipulation, this betrayal of- whoever Emma had been to her. It was the darkest thing she’d done in quite some time and not only because she was debasing herself so thoroughly with this _pirate_. But damn Emma and the way her eyes were often so full of- and damn her lies. If anyone was a master manipulator here it was the savior. “Come to think of it,” the pirate went on, “she ran off to see you. Seems like she’s always much more concerned about you than me.”

“I haven’t seen her,” Regina insisted quickly. This was a dangerous turn. “She must be using me as an excuse. I do believe the savior takes you for granted, Captain,” she purred. Ego was everything with this one, she knew.

“That she does,” he agreed darkly. There, now they were back on track.

“If only there was someone who appreciated you the way she ought,” the queen mused, as if to herself. “Perhaps then she’d learn that men like you don’t come around every day.”

It should have been utterly transparent, and yet he was just foolish and self-centered enough that it didn’t alarm him. She could actually see the idea come to him as he focused on her. “You’re no friend of the savior’s,” he said.

“No indeed,” and that was entirely unfeigned anger. If Emma did not love her now, did not care for her now, was not her friend now- she never would again.

“And you must be quite lonely yourself.” He _would_ think that lack of male company was a crisis. But it suited her purposes not to disabuse him of the notion. “I do believe we can assist one another, Your Majesty,” he went on, oily with what he clearly believed was charm. How excellent, the fool thought it was his own idea.

She fluttered her eyelashes at him and bit her lip and she had him. In his next breath he was inviting her up to his rented room for a nightcap with a grandiose gesture.

This was darkness again. It wasn’t in self-defense, for the greater good, toward anything really. It was pure harm to others for its own sake. Or, perhaps, the sake of the bass drum thudding in her head. But damn the dark, and damn the light. It was a trade, one unwashed, unshaven hanger-on for another. And Emma would know loss.


	6. Gold Dust Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: here be heterosexual sex. it's not that explicit (though I'm bumping up the rating just to be safe), but it does occur in the chapter. if you would like to be able to read the rest of the story but not that scene, a summary of the chapter is at the bottom.

_Heartless challenge_  
 _Pick your path and I'll pray_  
 _Wake up in the morning_  
 _See your sunrise loves to go down_  
 _Lousy lovers pick their prey_  
 _But they never cry out loud, cry out_

_Well, did she make you cry_  
 _Make you break down_  
 _Shatter your illusions of love?_  
 _And is it over now?_  
 _Do you know how?_  
 _Pick up the pieces and go home_

_Rock on, ancient queen_  
 _Follow those who pale in your shadow_  
 _Rulers make bad lovers_  
 _You better put your kingdom up for sale, up for sale_

_Well, did she make you cry_  
 _Make you break down_  
 _Shatter your illusions of love?_  
 _And is it over now?_  
 _Do you know how?_  
 _Pick up the pieces and go home_

_Well, did she make you cry_  
 _Make you break down,_  
 _Shatter your illusions of love?_  
 _And now tell me is it over now?_  
 _Do you know how?_  
 _Pick up the pieces and go home_  
 _Go home_  
 _Go home_

_Ooh, pale shadow of a woman_  
 _Black widow_  
 _Pale shadow of a dragon_  
 _Dust woman_

Regina felt almost as if she was watching herself seduce Hook. It reminded her strongly of the femme fatale movies that were her guilty pleasure or the black widow spider in the nature documentary—precise, calculated, detached. At the first landing she brushed her body against him, soft and pliant and pure feminine eroticism. His breath caught and rough hands caught her, too-eager fingertips digging into the curve of her ass, and she spun away, teasing. It wouldn’t do to make this too easy. This one liked to pursue and conquer.

Once in his room, she pressed against him again and more fully. Unable to quite bring herself to kiss him, she tilted her head back to let him mouth her neck and his hand up to palm her breast. She could feel him already where their hips were pressed together, and she was both pleased to have moved this along so quickly and suddenly very aware that she was going to need something beyond the thrill of seduction and victory to get her through seducing this thoroughly loathsome man. Unbidden, her mind conjured a smaller hand, a lighter touch, a lithe frame, and she moaned before she could stop herself.

“I do appreciate a woman eager to be jabbed with my sword,” he murmured, rolling his hips against her, and he _would_. But it was an easy distraction.

The queen scoffed. “Do you really think you’ve earned that yet, Hook?” she taunted, brushing her breasts against his chest, arm, back as she circled him. She didn’t dwell on the fact that it felt oddly like changing the subject. This was business, not pleasure. She had to be heartless, focused, efficient. Anything more than playacting needed to stay far from this night. “I’m not one of your tavern girls to spread just because you have a pretty face,” she sneered, and _that_ was entirely real.

“You’ll sing a different tune when I’ve shivered your timbers,” he growled, and it was incredibly fortunate that she was behind him now, because she could _not_ control her facial expression at that even if she did, with difficulty, contain the laugh.

“Oh please. You couldn’t handle me,” she insisted, and decided now was the time to reassert her control. “You certainly don’t know how to treat a lady. I was promised a drink,” she mock-pouted as she stepped back around into his line of sight.

The pirate immediately, and predictably, turned to his rum stash to get her one, and with his attention so occupied the queen reached for her phone and sent Emma a text asking for her to meet here, implying that it was urgent. That would bring the savior running. She didn’t dwell on how she was so very certain. She also didn’t let herself ponder why the idea of the blonde’s arrival had her pulse quickening and- other physiological responses.

Regina shook herself mentally and took control of herself and the situation even more firmly, reaching for her zipper in the next moment and peeling the dress down her body, so that when Hook turned back to face her she was utterly bare, making him start and spill the drinks. Smirking, she stepped into his personal space again and set the cups aside before he dropped them, then bent her attention to the task of undressing him, pulling at his seemingly endless layers of leather until he took the suggestion and began to help, causing her to step back out of the reach of his hook.

As his pants slid to the floor she saw that he was by now quite erect and thanked whatever luck she possessed that she did not have to help that along. She was also rather appreciative that he set his hook aside once his clothing was removed. Sharp objects were not something she eroticized.

“On your back, love, and I’ll give you a fucking you won’t soon forget,” he announced as if it were a prize she had won, reaching out to pull her to him.

Regina chuckled somewhat evilly and pushed him down onto the bed, and he went along readily enough. “You seem to have forgotten who you’re dealing with,” she scoffed, moving onto the bed and atop him. Oh, this kind of push-pull always did get her going. It was something that was so pleasant about- “God only knows what kinds of diseases you have,” she said as she magicked a condom onto him, bringing herself back to the task at hand. Straddling his hips, she gradually took him in, not quite wet enough from the pleasure of scheming and his anemic foreplay to do it quickly but enough to accomplish the task.

Slowly, she began riding him, her hands braced on his chest. It was pleasant enough, and certainly the eagerness of his eyes and hand on her body was a satisfying reminder of her attractiveness. She began to allow herself to enjoy it somewhat, grinding on him, guiding his fingers up to pull at a nipple, and still her hips working, moving, taking him in.

But then, inevitably, far too soon, he was grunting and relaxing, the tension draining from his body as the blood began to drain from his cock. Of course he would climax long before she did, a lousy lover as he was a lousy human being more generally. She briefly considered sliding up to straddle his face and making him finish her with his mouth, but the pleasure wasn’t the point. As she began to pull off of him, a knock came on the door. Emma was here. What good timing. More luck. A flick of her wrist, and the door was ajar, swinging open with the blonde’s second knock.

As the savior took two steps into the room before her mind processed what her eyes saw and Regina dismounted Hook calmly, moving to stand beside the bed, the world slowed to a stop. The pirate reached to cover himself, sputtered explanations, but his existence faded into the background as brown eyes met green ones, held, locked. Emma would have appreciated the lingerie, Regina realized abruptly, and this scene was for her benefit after all. The savior was certainly having a hard time keeping her eyes from roaming over the queen’s nude body now, and Regina could not resist stretching, drawing her eyes down to her breasts. Oh, she had her right where she wanted her.

Two steps forward and she was pressing against the savior now as she had her boyfriend, the eye contact so intense that she felt herself get properly slick for the first time. “And now you know what it is to have someone shatter your illusions of love,” the queen growled. “Is it over now? Do you know how to pick up the pieces and go on?”

The blonde’s eyes began to well up with tears, her face crumpling, her lower lip trembling, and wreaking the same pain on her that Regina had felt should have been everything she wanted. Instead, it was an oddly hollow victory. She felt like a pale shadow of herself, and could no longer remember why this was such an impeccable plot. No matter. It was over now. She had a wild thought to pull Emma down for a kiss before she went, then wondered why on earth such a thing would cross her mind. It was past time to leave, clearly, and in a puff of smoke she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Regina has sex with Hook, but it's all about feeling betrayed by Emma. Her thoughts also stray to Emma in inappropriate ways.


	7. Go Your Own Way

_Loving you_  
 _Isn't the right thing to do_  
 _How can I ever change things_  
 _That I feel_

_If I could_  
 _Baby I'd give you my world_  
 _How can I_  
 _When you won't take it from me_

_You can go your own way_  
 _Go your own way_  
 _You can call it_  
 _Another lonely day_  
 _You can go your own way_  
 _Go your own way_

_Tell me why_  
 _Everything turned around_  
 _Packing up_  
 _Shacking up is all you wanna do_

_If I could_  
 _Baby I'd give you my world_  
 _Open up_  
 _Everything's waiting for you_

“Love, I-” Hook began again once the queen had vanished, finally succeeding at fumbling up his underpants and then moving toward her, arms outstretched in a request for mercy.

“Save it,” Emma said shortly, automatically, not the least bit interested in whatever he might have to say. How could Regina betray her like this? Now, after all her care? After her promise to get her a happy ending?

“It was a mistake,” the pirate insisted. “You were ignoring me and-”

“I said shut up,” she snapped, throwing her hand up and turning away. God, she couldn’t even hear herself think with his pathetic whining. And she desperately needed to think right now. This moment was big, and important, if she could just-

“It will never happen again,” he vowed. As she glanced at him he was all puppydog eyes and utterly pathetic and it made her want to kick him as much as she ever had in all the time she had known him.

“Hook, I am going to say this to you very, very slowly,” the savior gritted out. “We. Are. Done. I do not want anything to do with you ever again. So it can happen again as much as you like-” That brought a pang that stopped her short. No, she didn’t want him to be with Regina again. God, why did she always fall for the assholes? Why couldn’t she just walk away from him-

And then all of the air rushed out of Emma’s lungs as she realized that it wasn’t that she was jealous over Hook stepping out on her, but _of him_ , that he had been with Regina. Why would- And why the hell was she thinking about this as something Regina, and not Hook, had done to her? Shouldn’t she be bothered that her ostensible boyfriend- Why did it hurt that Regina _chose_ him? But she didn’t- she couldn’t-

Stunned, the savior walked out of Hook’s rented room without saying anything more to him. He rushed after her, grabbed her arm the way he was forever doing to stop her and force her to turn back. She turned, and then punched him across the face before she even made a conscious decision, not even pausing to see what damage she’d done as she continued the motion to turn and walk away.

Down the stairs Emma went, out the door, past where she’d parked her Bug, utterly dazed. She had no plan, no conscious thought at all. She only knew that she had to keep moving. Suddenly, the moment when she had saved Regina from the mob took on new meaning. And the little moment of eye contact they had shared when she had told the queen Henry had asked Emma to protect her—but was that the only reason? Had she cared for the queen even then? When she’d pushed her out of the way of the wraith? Or, shit, when she’d half-carried her out of the fire? It was- well- She _knew_ that she cared for Regina as Henry’s other mother, as a friend, but-

No. No, it couldn’t be. How could the savior be attracted to- It was so wrong. She was Henry’s other mother. Her sometime enemy. Her _parents_ ’ sometime enemy. The person who cast the curse that left her an orphan. Loving her would not be right-

Oh god. Love? No. No, it couldn’t be anything like that, could it? It had to just be the crackling tension between them was turning out to be sexual. Right? It had to be. She couldn’t- they couldn’t-

But the way Regina had held her hand when sending her and Henry away from Pan’s curse, the way she’d looked at Emma when she crawled out of the magical well, the moment of their eyes holding as they worked to stop the curse’s failsafe—it had called forth an answering tenderness from the blonde each and every time and god- God. She did feel something. She had felt something for a long, long time and was well on her way down the path to something like love, and how could she ever change things that she felt?

Emma had tried. Her whole life, she’d tried to feel the things she was supposed to--be anything, everything to anyone, everyone for foster family after foster family in the hopes that _this time_ she’d be good enough to keep--and it had never, ever worked. Too boyish, too assertive, and slowly but surely too old. But damn it, she’d thought she was finally succeeding here, now. Hadn’t she been a good girl and given in to Hook’s manly and relentless pursuit? Hadn’t she put on a pink dress and heels to play the perfect little Stepford woman for her date with him?

Shit. Shit. Her mind came inevitably back to it. Was that feeling- almost-love- _thing_ for Regina what her promise of a happy ending had been about? It had felt vital to make that declaration in the moment, but she hadn’t thought about why. But now, it seemed like it had been because she wanted to give Regina something- give Regina everything she deserved, home and family and care- and love? But those were the things _Emma_ had also always wanted. And those were some things that Emma was rather well positioned to _be._

And fuck, fuck! How could she be so stupid to even think it? The queen had literally, less than an hour ago, gone out of her way to do harm to her. She didn’t feel the same way. In fact, it was rather clear that Regina totally fucking hated her. She would never take what Emma wanted to offer, no matter how much the blonde might want to give her everything.

God, how had everything gotten so turned around all of a sudden? How could Emma even _consider_ getting involved with someone who had just fucked her boyfriend to try to hurt her? Fuck, how was she so utterly sure that it had been about hurting her? And why was she so focused on Regina being fixated enough on _her_ to try it that she wasn’t even hurt by it? That didn’t mean she _meant_ anything to the queen, for fuck’s sake. Clearly, this woman used sex as a weapon, shacking up as it suited her, and that was really not anyone she ought to be remotely contemplating home and family and love with.

But god, shit, fuck, dammit, Emma wanted to give Regina that happy ending still. She wanted to _be_ her goddamn motherfucking happy ending, even after that, and wasn’t _that_ just proof she was completely fucked in the head. She wanted to give this woman the world. Suddenly, she realized she’d walked all the way to Regina’s house while her thoughts had chased themselves around her head. And that had to mean something. It all had to mean something.  
  
The blonde hesitated for only a moment before she squared her shoulders and marched herself up to the front door. Regina was damn well going to open up, because everything was waiting for her. She’d make her see it.


	8. I Don't Want to Know

_I don't want to know the reasons why_  
_Love keeps right on walking down the line_  
_I don't want to stand between you and love_  
_Honey, I just want you to feel fine_

_Finally baby_  
_The truth has come down now_  
_Take a listen to your spirit_  
_It's crying out loud._  
_Try to believe_  
_You say you love me, but you don't know_  
_You got me rocking and a-reeling_  
_Oh_

_I don't want to know the reasons why_  
_Love keeps right on walking down the line_  
_I don't want to stand between you and love_  
_Honey, I just want you to feel fine_

_Finally baby_  
_The truth has been told_  
_Now you tell me that I'm crazy_  
_That's nothing that I didn't know_  
_Trying to survive_

This felt like full circle, pounding on Regina’s door. But this time the older woman was not pouting and refusing to see her but rather opened it promptly. She was dressed in her mayoral finest, as if she was expecting Emma to come, and it felt pleasantly familiar as she sneered, “Come to tell me off for stealing your boyfriend, dear?” But there was something behind her eyes that the blonde couldn’t quite place, something- Vulnerable? Real?

“No,” the savior shrugged. “I really couldn’t care less what he does. And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

The queen’s head went back in surprise, but she recovered quickly. “Then what did you come for?”

“You,” it felt right to say it this way: simple, truthful. Emma stopped for a moment, not sure how to go on. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. The only thing I _do_ know is that I keep walking on down the line in my life and it always leads back to you. That seemed too important to ignore.”

Regina scoffed. “You can’t possibly imagine that I want to see you. I just- with your pirate-” she stopped, clearly incredibly baffled. “You ruined my life!” she insisted, squaring her shoulders again as she collected herself.

“Maybe,” Emma agreed. That caught the queen off guard, deflating the belligerence she’d mustered. “And I am sorry for the pain my actions caused you. The last thing I want to do is stand between you and love. I just want you to feel fine. I want to get you your happy ending.” She stopped. Here it was: the moment when she was going to say what she’d realized wandering the streets over here. “But more than that, I want to _be_ your happy ending.” And there it was, and it felt like the truth had finally been told.

“You’re crazy,” Regina gasped, but looking at her it was clear it was a reflex and her heart wasn’t really in it. From where the savior was standing, the older woman’s heart seemed to be hovering somewhere more around guarded curiosity, or maybe interest, and that made her more sure than ever that this was right.

“That's nothing that I didn't know,” Emma chuckled, part defensive, part serious. “I am painfully aware that getting involved with you is going to be the most complicated thing, well, ever. But when I realized I was most jealous that Hook got to be with you, well-” She shrugged.

“Your feelings aren’t my problem,” the older woman insisted, and there had been a time when the blonde would have been taken in by it, would have believed that Regina was rejecting her, but she could _read_ her now, all the subtle little things she did with her eyes, the way she put her hand on her stomach at emotional moments, and she knew there was something there—though maybe not even the queen herself was sure what it was.

“And yours aren’t mine,” the blonde replied offhandedly, hoping the edge would cut through Regina’s stubbornness to get her to listen as the honesty had earlier. “You’re the one so obsessed with me that you planned and executed a whole plot to hurt my feelings.” The queen looked up at her sharply, stopped cold. Score one for Swan. “You’re the one who looks at me like I’m magic.”

“You _are_ magic, Miss Swan,” Regina insisted dryly.

“You know what I mean,” Emma huffed, annoyed and yet pleased that the older woman would tease.

“You do the same,” Regina insisted in the next moment.

This was time for blunt honesty again. “Yes. And now I know it. And I also know it means something about you and me. And I think that if you listen to your spirit or your soul or your inner voice or whatever the hell you want to call it you’ll find it’s trying to tell you the same thing.” The savior quirked a challenging eyebrow. “After all, why else would you be so fixated on me that you’d try to steal my boyfriend?”

“Maybe I find the pirate attractive,” Regina answered, all poker face.

“And maybe I’m the fucking Queen of England,” Emma laughed. “You can’t stand him.”

“No, I can’t,” the queen conceded.

The blonde quirked an eyebrow. “And _that’s_ some dedication to hurting me. Fortunately for everyone, I think you have the right idea about Hook.” Regina just blinked at her as she went on, “Especially now that I’ve realized there’s a much better option: the mother of my son.” She couldn’t find it in her to care that the grin spreading across her face was goofy.

“That’s just- utterly- how could the savior possibly-” the older woman sputtered, then finished almost inaudibly “want me?” She was so fragile in that moment, as if she didn’t dare to hope.

“Just try to believe,” Emma murmured, stepping into Regina’s personal space. This was the moment, the gesture that was going to either prove to both of them that the blonde’s hunch was right or- well, she didn’t want to think about it. Slowly, so that the queen could retreat, she brought both hands up to cup her face, not wanting to grab her and kiss her by force despite her eagerness and her desire to get through the terror of anticipation. And then their lips met and time slowed to a crawl because it was sweet, sweet, sweet. She felt rocked, left reeling, as she pulled back just enough to rest her forehead on the queen’s.

"I hate you," Regina murmured, almost petulant.

"No you don't," the blonde answered quietly, soothingly.

"No, I don't,” the older woman acknowledged. “But I don’t know how to not be angry with you."

"I know,” Emma hummed. “And I’m sorry."

"I know," Regina conceded.

They were quiet together for a moment, and then the savior prodded gently, "That thing you did was really fucked up.”

“I know.” Emma could hear the “And I’m sorry” in her tone even if the queen wasn’t willing or able to voice it.

“And stupidly I love you anyway," the blonde added. Because being here with Regina like this felt so goddamn right that she didn’t find herself unsure anymore.

“I know," the queen said simply, and oh god that hurt. Emma started to pull away, but Regina slid her arms around her more fully, tucking her head against the savior’s shoulder. “Not ready to say it,” she explained, murmuring against the blonde’s neck. “I don’t know. Still too angry.”

Fuck, that was a relief. “‘s ok,” Emma hummed in reply, because it really was. It was enough for now that she felt it. Saying it would come. Hell, it had taken the savior wandering the streets for ages to figure it out why Regina was always at the forefront of her mind, despite the fact that it should have been obvious to everyone. The older woman could have the time she needed to speak it out loud.

They stayed together like that for a long, long while, breathing in each other’s presence, feeling the warmth and softness of the other, until finally Regina pulled back enough to look Emma in the eye and ask, “And what do you suggest that we do now?”

It was an utterly Regina combination of challenging and affectionate, and Emma smiled as she shrugged. “You and I have always been two people trying to survive. Now we’ll just be trying to do it together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little echoes of Orange is the New Black and Star Wars.


	9. You Make Loving Fun

_Sweet wonderful you,_  
 _You make me happy with the things you do,_  
 _Oh, can it be so,_  
 _This feeling follows me wherever I go._

_I never did believe in miracles,_  
 _But I've a feeling it's time to try._  
 _I never did believe in the ways of magic,_  
 _But I'm beginning to wonder why._

_I never did believe in miracles_  
 _But I've a feeling it's time to try._  
 _I never did believe in the ways of magic_  
 _But I'm beginning to wonder why._

_Don't, don't break the spell,_  
 _It would be different and you know it will_  
 _You, you make loving fun_  
 _And I don't have to tell you you're the only one._

_You make loving fun_  
 _(It's all I wanna do)_

Only when there was a knock on the door did they realize they’d talked all night.

The conversation had been deep and intense, meandering through what they had each realized in their recent intensive introspection. Once Emma got over being so startled to realize her feelings, the anger at Regina trying to hurt her bubbled to the surface, and that took quite some time to work through, the queen defensive at first before finally admitting that she had been in error and apologizing for the deliberate attempt at harm. Of course, the older woman’s somewhat reluctant revelation that she’d inadvertently fantasized about the blonde trying to get through it went some distance in smoothing it over.

And so it went, through topic after topic. At some point they had moved to sit in the warmly-lit study, at first across from one another, but as the night wore on they ended up side-by-side. Eventually they lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sleepless night catching up to them, their hands both resting on the narrow sliver of cushion between them. Emma was utterly aware of the warmth where their knuckles almost touched, and had begun to contemplate extending the tiny distance to intertwine their fingers, only to be startled by the tap at the door into colliding the backs of their hands together.

Their eyes met, and the blonde was relieved that Regina made no move to answer the door, glad that they could continue to be alone together. Then a raised voice became audible outside the door and they both recognized it immediately. Henry loudly insisted that he wasn’t going to give up on Regina even if she gave up on herself, and that he was going to keep coming back to the house every day until she let him in because he belonged there.

The blonde watched as the queen seemingly forgot completely that she was there, rising and walking slowly toward the door, and the one glimpse of Regina’s face that she caught showed her expression to be one of awe. Emma let her go, of course, then shifted uncomfortably on the couch at the unavoidability of eavesdropping on this moment that wasn’t hers to share.

After they greeted each other, Emma heard, unwillingly, the sounds of the door standing open for many long minutes. Eventually, mother and son shut it and came inside, Regina asking if Henry was hungry and what he’d like to eat, and it was so wonderfully mundane and familial that she chuckled before she could help it, causing Henry to peer into the doorway as he passed on the way to the kitchen.

“Mom?” He looked back at Regina, then toward his blonde mother again. “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yeah, kid, I just, um, you know, you guys needed a minute.” Well _that_ was unnecessarily awkward.

“But- it’s- I sneaked out before anyone was awake-” Seeing Regina’s expression, he faltered. _“She_ is not a morning person!” he insisted, pointing vigorously. Turning back again to Emma, he asked, “Have you been here all night?”

“We had some stuff to talk about,” she shrugged, trying to be casual.

Henry’s eyes began darting back and forth between them, a smile spreading across his face. “Finally.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the blonde demanded.

“I’m sure he’s just glad that we’ve worked out our differences, dear,” Regina said.

“Of course I am,” their son agreed placidly, but when her back was turned he winked at Emma before following his other mother to the kitchen.

**

That turned out to be the first of many pleasant family meals. Regina was an excellent cook, and Emma could do a few things quite well, and Henry was a dedicated sous chef and dishwasher for both. There was playful banter all around, but also real affection, checking in with the others’ days, the whole package. Regina and Emma’s respective ways of interacting with Henry intertwined like their fingers tended to, and their son pointedly refrained from teasing them about it, because it turned out that he did fully support them trying to be each other’s happy ending.

Slowly, carefully, they built something. There were more arduous late-night conversations: some shouting, some laughter, some tears, some kissing. They talked about the harm they’d done to one another, the scars they had from their early lives, the dreams they’d once abandoned but that now seemed worth imagining again. It should have all been obscenely accelerated, and yet they had known each other so long, knew each other so well now, had learned so much trust, that honesty happened despite their mutual inclination to be closed off.

Regina in a relationship, Emma discovered, was still snarky and clever, but also sweet and wonderful. The savior could _see_ the traces of the starry-eyed girl of both Snow’s stories and Regina’s own more guarded retelling. And being with the queen, while never in a strict sense _easy_ , made her happy, the little things she did like packing her a lunch when she did Henry’s, a feeling of care that followed her wherever she went.

In fact, while Emma had long been too cynical to be romantic, and never believed tales about the miraculous power of a relationship, well, she’d never believed in magic either and maybe it was time to try having a little faith in love too.

“Why are you grinning at me like an idiot, dear?” the queen teased gently, for her.

“Do I need a reason?” she asked, snuggling closer to her on the couch, where they’d retired after Henry went to bed for drinks and conversation. She tilted her head to kiss the older woman at the same time that Regina shifted slightly, causing her lips to land below her ear rather than on her cheek, and her breath caught. Emma did it again, intentionally, and the queen gave a little “mm.”

They had yet to have sex, though some kissing sessions had gotten rather heated. It hadn’t felt like the right time, or they had gotten into yet another deep conversation instead, or they’d been worried Henry might overhear. But here, now, tonight, the only thing the blonde wanted was to keep coaxing those pleased noises from Regina, her next kiss hot and open-mouthed on her neck, and she felt a hand cup her head.

Encouraged, she went on trailing lips and teeth all over the older woman’s neck, and then across her jaw to kiss her deeply. Regina shifted into her lap as they kept kissing, and it felt so good to have her close like this. When the blonde kissed down over her chin to go to her throat once more, she felt an “Emma?” vibrate against her lips.

“Yeah, babe.”

“Take me to bed,” the queen insisted.

“God yes,” the savior groaned.

They made their way as quickly as they could up to Regina’s bedroom, and the instant the door was locked behind them the older woman pressed the blonde up against it and kissed her forcefully, pressing one thigh firmly between hers as she slid her hands under the savior’s clothing, palming warm flesh. Emma hummed happy agreement into the older woman’s mouth as she did the same.

Two sets of hands explored thoroughly for long moments until the constriction of cloth prevented them from reaching any new skin. When both began to pull at shirts as best they could with the positioning, Emma chuckled into their kiss, and Regina laughed along as she pulled back enough so that they could actually undress. The blonde’s sweater and bra were much quicker to remove than the former mayor’s button-up, and she took advantage of the opportunity to walk her back toward the bed, dropping kisses onto her neck and then her collarbone and shoulder as they were revealed.

When the queen shimmied the rest of the way out of the shirt’s well-tailored sleeves, the strap of her bra slid part way down her arm, and suddenly the undergarment revealed impossibly much at this angle. Emma groaned in her need to kiss that smooth, warm skin—sternum and the curve of breast. Forgetting for a moment that she had hands in her eagerness, she was attempting to nose the barrier aside to get Regina’s nipple in her mouth when the queen chuckled indulgently down at her and she realized she had twisted herself at a terribly uncomfortable angle and was so completely off balance that a little nudge sent her sprawling onto the bed.

The blonde was still laughing at her own absurdity when the queen’s hot mouth descended on her nipple, turning it into a groan. Regina was focused and attentive, trying different touches and gauging Emma’s reaction as she switched from one breast to the other, and soon the savior was writhing beneath her. She didn’t want to break the spell of this woman’s magical mouth, but the need to touch her was also irresistible, and by sheer will she pulled herself together enough to reach down and cup Regina’s breasts, rolling her nipples lightly between thumb and forefinger. 

At the older woman’s chest-deep moan, Emma felt her whole body spark. “Fuck, I want to make you feel amazing,” she groaned, urging the queen to roll over onto her back. She went readily, and the blonde was lavishing kisses and bites over her skin in no time, sucking a nipple here and digging in teeth in pure aching want there as her hands methodically peeled away mayoral slacks. When she realized the queen’s thong was utterly soaked, her need for the other woman became overwhelming, and she was kissing her way down her body to settle between Regina’s thighs as quickly as humanly possible.

Emma knew her way around bodies. Men, women, whoever, there’d been plenty. But Regina was something else. _This_ was something else. She’d had good sex, but this would be different. She knew that it would, if for no other reason than the emotions involved were so much greater. This encounter was already unbelievably intense and they had barely started. When Regina propped herself up on her elbows to meet the blonde’s eyes in a fiery, demanding gaze, she was damned if she was going to deny her for another second, bringing her mouth eagerly where they both wanted it.

The first slow stroke had her shuddering nearly as hard as the queen. The slickness and heat of her felt so fucking good that even in the tiny span of time between the first touch and the second she was crawling out of her skin with desire for Regina’s taste on her tongue again. And so she tasted, tracing every curve, surface, softness, her explorations punctuated with direct, though soft, strokes to the older woman’s clit. The savior was torn between wanting to close her eyes in concentration and wanting to keep watching, because the queen was goddamn beautiful when she was being pleasured.

Their need spiraled up together, Emma’s desire to touch and Regina’s desire to be touched amplifying one another. The blonde began to flick and swirl her tongue faster, more directly, reveling in the queen’s “Umh!”s and shaky intakes of breath.

 Oh but she knew she could do better, pulling her mouth away just long enough to ask, “Inside?”

“Yes!” Regina gasped.

Here again the sensation of touching Regina had Emma going out of her head as much as the older woman. She felt so fucking good, hot- liquid- velvet- and fuck, Emma had never needed anything so much in her life as this woman in her mouth, around her fingers, moaning her name. Gloriously wet from nose to chin, knuckle-deep and wanting to get impossibly deeper to feel her more-more-more, this was everything good. This was maybe all she wanted to do ever again, sucking her, fucking her, hearing her moans rising in pitch and intensity, feeling her grasping at eager fingers, moaning right back.

And then Regina was coming, so perfect and beautiful and Emma was overwhelmed by how much she loved her in this moment.

“You’re the only one,” she murmured, and the older woman probably couldn’t even hear her, but it didn’t matter, she didn’t have to tell her.

Then their eyes met, and she knew that the queen knew, whether she’d heard or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little nod to the title of the Ani DiFranco album So Much Shouting, So Much Laughter. Also, homage to this image: http://angstbotfic.tumblr.com/post/106435858960/scarimor-nothatkindofdoctor-scarimor-my


	10. Songbird

_For you, there'll be no more crying,_  
_For you, the sun will be shining,_  
_And I feel that when I'm with you,_  
_It's alright, I know it's right_

 _To you, I'll give the world_  
_To you, I'll never be cold_  
_'Cause I feel that when I'm with you,_  
_It's alright, I know it's right._

 _And the songbirds are singing,_  
_Like they know the score,_  
_And I love you, I love you, I love you,_  
_Like never before._

 _And I wish you all the love in the world,_  
_But most of all, I wish it from myself._

Looking down at where Emma lay between her legs, face shiny with her wetness, Regina groaned with desire. Cupping her face in eager hands, she coaxed, “Come here, my love.” The blonde crawled up eagerly, and they kissed deeply, making the queen moan somewhat at the taste of herself. Needing the savior closer, the older woman wrapped her arms around her, reveling in soft, warm skin, but when she did the same with a leg she met denim.

“Emma, are you fucking me with your pants still on?” she asked, not quite sure if she was teasing or actually disapproving.

“Um, not for long!”  the blonde assured her, and oh she was adorably ridiculous.

Emma removed the offending garments and settled back on top of her in no time, and yes, that was much better. Now when she pulled the savior closer, it was a much more pleasant experience, such a delightful expanse of warm, smooth skin and oh- wetness when Emma’s leg slipped between hers, pressing her sex against Regina’s thigh.

The blonde bucked against her reflexively after that first accidental contact, and yes, she needed to feel that slickness much, much more. Her nails scratched lightly along Emma’s back and side and hip on her way downward because she needed the intensity, and based on the savior’s moan and the way she rolled her hips against the queen’s thigh, it was appreciated.

And then her fingers found their destination, and the blonde was so deliciously wet that the older woman couldn’t help uttering a little desirous “mm.” For long moments Regina stroked steady, easy circles against the blonde’s clit, holding her close, loving the way she shuddered atop her.  

Then Emma pleaded, “Regina, fuck me.”

The queen was only too glad to do so, coaxing the savior to move up her body slightly to help with the angle and then slipping two fingers inside her so easily, her thumb fitting against her perfectly right. God, she wanted to give her this woman all the pleasure in the world, to do something good and right, she herself.

Soon Emma pushed up slightly to allow her hips to move, and Regina drank in the sight of her eagerly. Then the blonde’s breasts caught the queen’s attention, and she was contorting herself nearly as much as the savior had earlier in order to get a nipple into her mouth. The effort was utterly worthwhile, however, for the deep, full moan it pulled from Emma’s chest and the clenching around her fingers, and Regina was digging eager fingertips into the blonde’s back to keep her exactly in this right place.

And so she worked her up, switching from one breast to the other, wet sucking punctuated with teeth as her fingers pushed, pulled, curled and her thumb never stopped stroking.  Emma began to pant, and then whimper, her motion getting erratic, and then she was curling her body down to muffle her cry into the mattress as she came.

**

As she watched Emma sleep the next morning, Regina knew perfectly well that it was ridiculous to think it, but it seemed as if the sun was shining _for_ the blonde, was made to caress her smooth, bare skin where she lay asleep in the queen’s bed. And in fact that bare back told the savior’s story, painterly lines and taut muscles and several scars reflecting in equal measure the beauty and strength and resilience of the blonde’s soul.

Regina knew that she had contributed substantially to the scarring, and with that knowledge came dedication to give this woman everything she could, stability and warmth and care. The queen continuously did little things that showed her affection, let the blonde know Regina had thought about her, because the look of disbelief on her face every single time was wrenching, but utterly worthwhile.

Regardless, she was completely content in this moment. She didn’t quite think there’d be no more crying ever in her life, but the savior’s sheer Charming dedication to taking care of the people she loved, as obnoxious as it sometimes was, did feel like something she could count on. In fact, the sun just seemed brighter with Emma around, the world a little more full of possibility than it had been since she was a girl. She felt that when she was with her, it was alright. She _knew_ it was right.

She wished Emma all the love in the world, and she would give it herself. She loved this woman, loved her, loved her, like she never had felt love before. It was full. It was deep. It was tempered by trust and adversity. It was made all the sweeter by knowing what loss felt like.

The queen shook herself. _That_ was verging on overly sentimental, and she slid from the bed and dressed in the pajamas she’d set out but never donned the night before.

It was well that she had, because in the next moment the doorbell rang.

“Fuck,” Emma groaned into the pillow.  

Regina had learned that Henry’s assessment was entirely accurate: the blonde was not a morning person, and she chuckled indulgently. “I’ll get it.”

Adding her robe to the ensemble, she went down and opened the door, only to be met quite expectedly with the blonde’s mother.

“Oh, good, I was hoping to speak to you alone,” Snow said without preamble, peering around her into the house to be certain.

“Good morning, Snow. It’s lovely to see you. What brings you to my porch?” she deadpanned.

“Yes, sorry, well,” she sputtered, very Mary Margaret in this moment, and then went on in a rush, “You know you and Emma can’t go on like this.”

“I beg your pardon?” the queen asked, her voice in its lowest and most dangerous register.

“Now that you’re-” Snow paused, searching for the word, “ _involved_ with my daughter, there are a few things we have to discuss about your intentions.”

“Intentions?” Was being shocked into ineloquence a sexually transmitted condition that she had acquired from the blonde?

“Yes, intentions!” the other woman went on, oblivious to how much she had startled the queen. “When are you going to propose?”

And _that_ was absurd enough to bring back Regina’s customary snarkiness. “Snow, I’m only going to say this once. The fact that I am bedding your daughter is between Emma and me. I will _not_ have you dictating the development or goals of our relationship.”

Now it was the former bandit’s turn to gawp at her. “Bedding? Regina! Unmarried?”

“We’re done here,” the queen said, leaving her onetime enemy sputtering on the front step as she closed the door.

Emma was very slightly awake when she reentered the bedroom, blinking and stretching.

“Who’zat, ‘gina?” she slurred, face partially mashed into the pillow as she arched in a new direction.

“It was your mother.”

 “Wha’shewant?”

“To talk about my intentions with you.”

That had the blonde wide awake immediately. “What?  She’s not being weird about the fact that you used to be married to her dad, is she? Because that’s got fuck all to do with me. Or like a homophobe?  I know the Enchanted Forest was kinda medieval.”

“No, nothing like that,” Regina assured, warmed by how quick the blonde was to defend their relationship. “In fact, I think if I hadn’t shut her down she would have started planning our wedding right there on the doorstep.”

“Shut her down?” Regina just smiled in quiet satisfaction, and at that precise moment a chorus of tweets and chirps and warbles arose in the tree outside the window, drawing both their attention for a moment. "Regina,” the blonde said after a moment, her tone somewhat warning. “There are happy, chirpy  _birds_  singing outside the bedroom. Birds.” A beat. ”Tell me you didn’t gloat to my mother that you’re banging her daughter.”

"Of course not," the queen scoffed, then added, almost inaudibly, "I said bedding."

They both kept a straight face for only a split second after that before dissolving into laughter. By the time they it subsided Emma was clutching her side and Regina leaning weakly against the wall.

“ _You_ are evil,” the savior insisted.

“I am no such thing,” the queen responded primly.

“Yeah you are,” Emma insisted. “And you’d better come bed me again right now.”

Regina was glad to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that “and most of all I wish it from myself” is weirdly like “Clarissa decided she would buy the flowers herself” when transposed into the third person. 
> 
> Maybe I said this already, but I'm not doing Oh Daddy because that song is appalling.
> 
> Thanks to all for staying with me through this artistic experiment, even when it took a bazillion years to finish. It has been a fun journey for me, and hopefully for you as well!


End file.
